dead hearts on the battlefield
by hisgirltuesday
Summary: "Is that all you want in life in return for your soul? Retribution?" There's no hesitation in her answer and he wonders when he'd missed that bloodthirsty glint in her eyes. "That, and so much more." —he teaches her how to aim a gun. She has no problem teaching herself to pull the trigger. Mage AU
1. but alas, revenge becomes her

**/notes: If you recognize it chances are I don't own it. Dual POVs. Very**** AU.**

**_Salvum ventus: _Save me, wind_  
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**_Aperio, Deleo: _reveal, erase**

**_Exsolvo, resolvo: _release, loosen**

**—google translate**

**Extended summary: "Is that all you want in life in return for your soul? Retribution?" There's no hesitation in her answer and he wonders when he'd missed that bloodthirsty glint in her eyes. "That, and so much more." ****Between attempts on her life and plans gone awry, Max is just trying to set things right in all the wrong ways. In which Max is a mage stuck in an unfriendly world and Fang is the product of making deals with the devil****.**

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**01. but alas, revenge becomes her**

(( _she's hardly a mage, hardly a knight in a chess game, but she has fire in her veins and steel in her soul, so that's that_ ))

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_and maybe when the world falls apart you'll remember how it was like to be real _

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She finds it rather ironic that although she's lived in the drafty old mansion her entire life (as did most of her predecessors), she was never informed that a whole labyrinth was constructed below its floors, hidden by concealed runes behind bookshelves in the first-floor library.

She double-checks the crumpled paper in her hand, smoothing out creases and fingering already smeared charcoal lines, muttering _it should be here, it should be here_ under her breath to empty stone hallways. Her enchanted moonstone pendant is her only source of light in the dank corridors, wound tightly around her left wrist. She very nearly slips on a puddle of water, but her eyes are still riveted on the map as the charcoal lines shifted, the hallways did too.

Magic was a pain in the ass sometimes, but if the spelled labyrinth kept the Council officials off her tail, she'll take what she could get. Even if she had to journey with a weird mist hanging around her, severely limiting her magic-casting abilities.

Two left turns, three right, and a trip down five flights of questionably stable stairs (because floating slabs of rock in the barely illuminated darkness, that's why—what was Haniel Clearwater thinking?) she's rudely dropped approximately two stories down and was flat-out falling to meet her end with the starved serpent waiting at the bottom with nothing but her silent screams and the sound of wind roaring in her ears.

( Actually, that's another story in another time and place. With a different girl, though they're both quite the same )

The map is fisted in her right hand, but she manages to sneak a peek at it without letting it fly off. And just like she had expected, all the marks that represented the labyrinth were replaced by a smoky nothingness and _oh_—

The mist that was preciously clinging to her even when she was falling ten stories down was slowly dissipating; she welcomes the familiar thrum of pure, unadulterated energy coursing through her veins. Another peek reveals that _oh_, the smoky patch is gone and that tiny white dot must be her and _oh_, the random black line that just appeared must be the bottom and the dot is approaching that at breakneck speed—

—and if she doesn't do something, anything, she'll be a little more than a blood and flesh pancake at the bottom of a house that isn't even hers anymore, dead and forgotten. Hardly a mage, hardly a knight in a chess game but she's got fire in her veins and steel in her soul, so that's something nobody should ever give up.

_Salvum ventus_, her soul whispers, and just like that, her fall slows considerably and the wind stops screaming her ears. She lands feet-first and mutters _claresco_; her pendant illuminates the massive circular stone chamber she's currently in and she has to blink a few times before she unfurls the map.

It's perfectly blank.

She blinks in confusion this time, runs a shaky hand through wind tossed dirty blond hair, breathes in a sharp breath. Surveys the chamber; regular granite, spiral wall design, water stains on the outer edges. Good. She's still in the premises of the labyrinth and not in some parallel universe. But still—there's only weathered stone surrounding her, save for the black expanse above her.

"This is impossible," she says, looking at the map again and again, but it's still blank as the darkness above her is impenetrable despite the numerous light charms she'd cast on her pendant. Her mind frantically puts the floating stairs scenario on loop, thinking _oh my stars what if there were steps that I missed stupid enchantments_ and—

—there's a draft in the room.

She tries to quell the _yes yes there's an exit_ feeling blossoming in her chest but her feet walk her over to the crack in the far wall and she hesitantly places her free hand on the crack.

Nothing happens.

Two rejections in a day is something she's not settling for, and deep down, there's something telling her that _yes, there's something and if you think magic just tells you where it is, you're still that naive little girl from yesterday_.

Well, fine. She closes her eyes and focuses on the electric thrum, willing it to just reach out and there. She feels it. Feels the heavy magic guarding the surrounding stones, sees the faintly glowing runes behind her eyelids. A little more, and then her hands involuntarily trace them, running spells through her mind. She feels her mana necklace burn her skin as places both hands on the stone, willing it to just—

_Aperio_

Her soul burns and she snaps her eyes open; previously concealed runes flare to life, glowing unearthly blue. There's runes marked hide, protect, repel, and a dozen different more, but that's not what makes her brows scrunch together.

It's the fact that it's been too easy.

It's the fact that she wasn't killed by the stone gargoyles that guarded the catacomb entrance, the fact that she managed to annihilate the whole army of skeletons with a thirst for blood (_fresh blood_, they'd screamed in her mind) with fire spells and the fact that the map that was currently tucked in her leather jacket pocket was real and true and led her in the right direction through the labyrinth hallways...

She swallows, knowing what she probably had to face once she was done with these runes.

_Deleo_

The surface of the stone crumbles and she jumps back, boots skidding on the floor. The crack widens until it's wide enough to fit a person. She aims her moonstone pendant at the crack, channeling all the light into a beam but the darkness remains the same and it's then that she knows she'll be probably screwed when she steps in.

The crack all but screams _danger danger danger_, after all.

But then again, she's Max and she's brash and brave and reckless, all act now and think later, and when there's a challenge there will be no backing down. She thinks of Maya, thinks about her mother and how nice it would be if she conquered whatever lay ahead and got to see them again. Thinks of how revenge would taste once she'd harnessed the power that lay five steps away and how nice it'll be to bring her family back together.

"This is it, Max," she whispers as five steps turn to one. The ominous feeling increases tenfold but she steels her resolve and closes the distance. "For them."

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She's falling again. But instead of falling through darkness, she's falling through a tunnel of fire _so why don't the flames burn_? And _oh my stars were those faces talking to her_? She sees severed human heads and cutoff limbs being swallowed up as she lets gravity have it's way but _they know my name and I can hear them in my head._

She whips out the map, but the flames consume it the minute she tries to unfold it and that's when the fire really burns her, white hot flames licking at her soul.

She screams and very nearly faints when a head gets too close and she sees her panic reflected in the empty eye sockets.

_This is only the beginning, Maxine Calestra Clearwater_, it says. _Sweet dreams._

"What?" She questions. "Did you just wish me sweet dreams and why would you say—"

The fires extinguish, and she is alone.

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Her name is Maxine Calestra Clearwater, four years of age. She is a happy dirty blond, living in a old stone mansion on the outskirts of Calesia Pavillion. She has a wonderful caring mother and a lovely two year old sister but _where is father_? Her mother tells her that_ father is not here but loves her very much_ and she is four so she soaks it up; it is the most wonderful feeling in the world—

She is six, and she likes long walks on the windy walkways in the city built on a mountain face. Chants of _Glory To__ Alberdawn_ fill the morning air and oh, she _loves the feel of the wind in her hair_ and it's the most wonderful feeling in the—

She is eight and her mother refuses to enroll her in St. Xavian's Academy for young mages. She whines and begs and pleads, saying _how lovely and great it would be for her to finally harness her magic so she could ride the wind like those kids who lived down at the base of the mountain_. Her mother shakes her head and says that one day, she could do that but for now, _mother will teach you_ and it's the most wonderful feeling in—

She is eleven and she is showing Maya mini tornadoes in the garden. She makes it pick up autumn leaves and swirls them all around while Maya claps her nine-year-old-hands telling her, with stars in her eyes, how _cool and awesome that is _and_ wow Mac is such a fun siste_r. It's the most wonderful feeling—

She is thirteen when she finally enters St. Xavian's Academy and she knows when to harden her mask or clench her fists when someone throws a look her way and says, oh look, _it's the Clearwater girl, from the disgraced noble family and all. _She holds her head high and studies in the library when everyone is off riding the wind. There is no way to hide the smirk on her face when she aces the rune test whereas everyone fails; it's the most wonderful—

She is fifteen when she is top of her class and whispers of _no, way, Clearwater must be cheating_ swirl around the school; she holds Maya's hand as she walks her sister to class. When it's lunch, they're sitting in their corner table and Maya asks _why do people hate them so much sis we didn't do anything wrong _and she can only shrug and say, _it's not because of what our predecessors have done, it's because of who we are_. Maya blinks and tells her that _if she has family, everything will be all right_ and it's the most—

She is sixteen when the war hits. She doesn't know why she's so surprised; she's known that his would happen one day. Alberdawn is up in flames, Calesia Pavillion is up in flames, the _whole Magical Plain is up in flames_ and her mother herds them to the basemen. Dashes her mana necklace to the ground, whispers the words that take them away, away from _Alberdawn and their cursed bloodline_ and into the Mortal Realm and it's the—

She is seventeen when the Council members hunt them down. She is in her junior year of highschool when one day, there's no home to go home to anymore. Maya squeezes her hand when a solemn-looking fireman explains that their house is unsalvageable but their mother is okay and _safe safe safe._ Her heart lifts a little and it's—

Her name is Maxine Calestra Clearwater, eighteen years of age. It is her birthday when she wipes herself from her mother and sister's memories and sends them far away with new identities and memories, saying _I'm sorry I'm sorry_ to an unlit birthday cake. They become Valerie and Maybelle Ride, single mother and teenage daughter. When the Council breaks into their empty house, she is already outside and burns it down it with a flick of her wrist. She doesn't have any feelings left anymore.

She's still eighteen when she lands herself back in Alberdawn, right in front of her first home. It's been converted into a Council Hall (_oh the irony_, she thinks) and a map is clutched in her right hand, retribution as the only goal in mind.

Around her, the war rages on and the blood rune on her back burns with the heat of a thousand fires.

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She jerks awake, eyes snapping open as the dream—

Wait.

She's lying on her side in the fetal position, and it's still dark but there's something heavy and cold on her arms and _oh_. One hand hesitantly touches the other and it's something unmistakably metal. Realization mixed with panic is not something someone wants to wake up from and this is no exception.

She thrashes in her chains, searches for the thrum in her veins, whispers _exsolvo, resolvo, dimitte_, but the energy in her veins fades into background noise with the last word. She tries and tries and tries but soon, she's feeling the strain in her soul but _no, she can't give up now. _

"It's brass, m'dear. No use in trying—"

She instinctively whips her head in the direction of the voice...if that even was a voice. It sounded like a hundred people murmuring all at once, and she notes the way the floor vibrates. Definitely not a good sign.

"Who are you?" She yells into the darkness. "And am I that much of a threat that you have to chain me up?"

Oops. Not exactly what—

There's a laugh, or what she hopes is a laugh. The sound is reverberating through the empty expanse, and she thinks she sees a red glint somewhere off.

"_Child_. It's more for your safety. Wouldn't want you stumbling around in the darkness, hmmm?" The voice is hard to pinpoint now it, sounding like the buzzing of flies. A million of them, high up in the blackness, mocking her, waiting for a stupid move so that—

"Okay, fine. I get it. So I highly doubt you've chained me up just so we could talk," she yells, and her voice bounces back to her. Okay. Definitely a big room.

Another laugh.

"You're right. I haven't," the voice says. "I have other plans in store. I mean, with such a _tragic_ past, you'll need something to help fix your problems."

Great. Another test. And this time, she knows that it'll be a challenge. But she's Max and she's brains and brawn, takes what she can get, and she'll deal with the disaster head-on.

"So what do you want me to—"

The room is suddenly engulfed in a hazy red light, and when her eyes refocus again she sees that it's the size of a football field. There's shadows with glowing ruby eyes lining the walls, and _shit shit shit_ there's no way she can possibly fight all of them. It'll be a miracle if she even manages to get rid of the heavy brass chains wrapped around her wrists but by then...

She looks up and sees the shadows slowly advancing at a leisurely pace, biding their time, probably thinking, _she's not going anywhere anytime soon_.

They're right. She's not.

_Scared now, Maxine Calestra Clearwater?_ she hears in her head. _It'll be such a shame to see you go down in a fight, so you should probably call your demon. _

_What what what _demon _what_—

Another laugh. _Silly girl. That's why you're here, right? To break the blood rune on your back. You've succeeded so far, but whether you'll be able to control him is a different story. _

_But but _I thought—

_You're a Clearwater girl, of cursed blood, of a disgraced family. Your ancestors have been dancing with the devil for a millennia. So why stop now?_

The voice goes silent and she can only watch as the shadows advance, thinking, _great advice, but how am I supposed to do that?_

(( _figure it out, top of your class_ ))

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_and maybe when the sky begins to cry you'll take a step back and wonder how it was like to feel_

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**/notes2: ****um I'm horrible at updates so I don't really know when the next chapter is coming up. I'm also writing on a whim (and sporadically so) ugh ideas and/or motivation come at the worst times, like when it's 3 am and I'm trying to sleep.**

**with that said, I hope you guys enjoyed this so far. please review and tell me what you think! **


	2. my blood, it's on your blade

**/notes: Primus**** elementum: first element**

**Anima incendium: burning of the soul**

**Ventum est, dabit mihi pinnas: wind, give me wings**

**—google translate**

**technically chapter 2.5, since if I shoved everything in here my word count for this chapter would be over 4k. **

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**02. my blood, it's on your blade**

(( _she's a storm on the horizon—all vengeance and disaster, sharp as glass with bitter eyes; he wonders how it'll feel to have her soul on a platter _))

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_and maybe when the earth begins to wither you'll remember how it felt to chase the sun_

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**Magic: An Introduction**

Property of St. Xavier's Academy, Calesia Pavillion

Grimoire, Recompiled

Excerpt—page 30, Chapter 2

_...Magic branches out into eight primary elements: earth, water, fire, wind, dark, and light...elements are correlated by advantages and disadvantages. By applying the elemental wheel, we can take note that fire » ice » wind » earth » lightning » water » fire; light «» dark._

_A mage can only master one element at a time and make it their primus elementum; basic proficiency on the remaining seven is required...Spells are a manifestation of concentrated elemental energy and a fledging mage should stray from overexerting themselves (practicing with high-mana consuming spells, continuous usage of healing runes, etc.), for they may be in danger of anima incendium..._

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She's felt panic and fear. Felt them the day when she'd realized that there was no such thing as safe anymore when she sees flames outside the mansion and finding out angry neighbors were at the top of her things-to-worry-about list (_your yard's not going to be the only thing damaged next time_, they said).

Or the time Council chased them down in a barren countryside road in the middle of the night, ten to three, hopelessly outnumbered. She remembers fear in her mother's eyes, quickly replaced by a stately glint in the moonlight. Remembers her saying, _this is the end of the line. Take Maya and go._ She feels it then, as strongly as ever. But she can't and she won't because you can't abandon family like that. You don't. To do so would be the worst of sins.

_This is an order, Max. As a mage to another, I'd like you know that. But as a mother, I'd like to see both of you alright when I come back._

The Council was closing in then; deep inside, she knows. _This is the end of the line. _Maya's hand tightening against her own, grip like iron, fingers like ice. _Checkmate_.

_Fine_, she'd said, with tear streaked cheeks and despair in her eyes. _You said when. Not if. I'll be holding it to you, mom._

And then she runs, but not without feeling a slight rumble below her feet. She takes a glance back and sees a flash of red, near where her mother kneels in the face of the enemy. Sees the shadowy figure emerge from the circle of red, sees the Council freeze in their attacks. Hears accusatory shouts and the thrum of electricity through the previously calm air, and knows. Looks at Maya and wonders how her sister became so much better at hiding emotions, but the tremble in intertwined hands betrays her.

_Come on, Max. Let's fly._

_Right_, she says. _Ventum est, dabit mihi pinnas._

She feels the familiar warm rush and leaps up, beautiful translucent wings catching a thermal and bearing them high up into the night sky. She can't see the battle anymore, but she can definitely feel it in her bones.

But that was two and a half years ago.

Her mother had come to them three sunrises later, and she'd never asked about how now they were now true enemies and suspected traitors in the eyes of the Council. Never asked more about the blood rune on her back, never talked about that day, period.

She should have, in case she'd ever hit rock bottom and was stuck in a cavern with no way out with demons who apparently had penchants for squirming victims. And oh yeah, chained up in brass chains with cuffs that were as thick as her ankles.

She tugs resolutely on said chains, almost at the end of her line now. Reaches for her feet, for her twin silver daggers strapped to her boots. The advancing demons were five feet, four feet away. Too many for you to fight, her mind screams. You'll be gone before they completely surround you.

Call your demon, call your demon, _callyourfreakingdemon_—

Three feet, two feet—

—_checkmate_.

She jumps back when the first one strikes, whipping her daggers behind her on instinct for that one demon who probably thought itself as clever for striking when she's currently being attacked. The streak of ruddy maroon on silver tells her that she'd hit home, and she dodges the claw that swipes at her head. Or as much dodging she could manage, because screw those chains.

"Fuck me sideways," she grinds out as she blocks a blow to her chest. Spinning on her heels, she manages to stab one in the arm and it hisses in fury. Before she can slash at the other, a demon grabs at her chains and hurls her face-down to the floor. She barrel rolls, shakily climbing back on her feet as the shackles become taut. The demons flicker, slowly becoming more humanoid, rather jagged blobs of red eyes, yellow claws and teeth.

Translation: a hundred times more hideous and dangerous. She also reads it as _finally, we're getting down to business._

Then they jump her all at once.

She's a flurry of silver and fury, fending off strikes as best as she can (read: not much) and she's sure the adrenaline rush is the only thing keeping her from feeling the crimson that was currently blossoming across her abdomen.

A demon manages to land a slashing blow on her lower back, and she can only brace herself as her legs fold and she tumbles forward, twisting her body to land on her side. Her whole torso feels wet and she grips her daggers, eyeing the demons that conveniently stopped to admire their quick handiwork of a mage painting the floor bright crimson.

She's exhausted—not that she'll ever admit it, but the physical strain on her tired muscles is enough to make her give up...almost.

Because her mind is screaming profanities at her and if she tries, she can almost, almost touch the fire that burns in her soul. She can almost see it; bloodied hands reaching for that pool of pure, unaltered energy—

—and she touches the blood rune on her back, knowing that it's probably shredded skin now but she lifts her head and notices how her blood flows in tiny rivers, ignoring the ruts in the stone floor and carving their own design, red lines and symbols she'd only seen in forbidden tomes.

The other demons don't attack, stopped by the scarlet circle around her.

She knows now.

The floor shakes, rumbles, and splits into rifts. The demons fall back as the cavern ceiling begins to fall, chunks of stone haphazardly dropping down to crush whatever unfortunate being (Max/demon ratio: 1:300, so whew) and she stifles a giggle as she watches a particularly large hunk crush a group of huddled demons.

And because karma is a bitch, a chunk nearly turns her head into brain soup if she didn't manage to roll over just in time. She kneels on shaky feet, only to turn and see the back of a shaggy black head, casually sitting criss-cross-applesause in the center of her accidental summoning circle.

As if he senses her looking at him, he turns around and shoots her an appraising look and she can't do anything else but stare because nobody should be legally allowed to be that good-looking (flawless olive skin, angled jaw, and that _body_—)

"Shame. That chunk was supposed to hit you." It's all ruined when he opens his mouth, however. She gapes at him, mind sluggishly but surely processing the seven words that he'd just said.

"You're an ass," she spits back as soon as her mind resumes control. If this was really her demon, she'd sooner send him back to the Underworld before he could make—

"Now, now, that's no way to thank someone for killing all those low-level demons and saving your life?" he replies in a patronizing tone, lazily stretching and standing up in one smooth motion. She schools her features into a perfectly blank expression averting her eyes because no, she was totally not looking at that expanse of toned skin between his black tee and matching jeans. The ceiling stops falling and she finds her footing again among the puddles of blood and rubble, biting back an exasperated sigh.

If this was what her predecessors had to put up with, she'd wondered how they were able to keep their sanity in check.

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The Clearwater mage was a storm on the horizon—all vengeance and disaster, sharp as glass with bitter eyes; he wonders how it'll feel to have her soul on a platter. So sure, his first comment was uncalled for (edit: _not_), but he can't help it if she had extremely bad timing and he was having a good time in an upscale bar in London, kicking back shots with Iggy and—

"Were you born stupid?" she counters in reply, motioning to the crushed black masses that were slowly reforming, "because I highly doubt you killed them."

—and that everything would be oh-so-_boring_ if they got off on the right foot.

He shrugs, raising his arms in a so-be-it gesture. "Not exactly my problem, is it?" The demons were regaining form now, re-attaching severed limbs and returning to the fight with another degree of bloodthirst. "And besides, silver? Isn't that for like, werewolves?"

He watches as she looses a dagger to two demons. "Long story, last resort." She barely manages to sidestep another low-level and slashes at it's heart with her remaining one. "At least cut these chains off me, will you?"

He responds by lazily ripping the heart out of a low level that decided to stray too close to him. "Careful. You're pushing your luck; I can only perform one nice deed per day."

The mage fends off demons before landing in a defensive stance right beside him. "One nice deed, huh? Sorry, but the whole grand entrance with the-ceiling-is-falling didn't cut it."

Huh. Then so be it; he's kinda tired of this fighting demons left and right thing, anyway. He motions for her to hold out her hands and cuts the cuffs clear out with his custom Salachite crystal dagger tucked in his belt. She draws in a long, steady breath as the chains fall away; he's awarded with a tiny smile, a small quirk of her lips.

"Ha...well...thank you...?"

"Fang," he supplies helpfully. He gives her his street name, of course. There was no need to let her know—

The remaining demons decide to advance on them all at once; he feels the unmistakable crackle of magic in the air. The barely-there draft in the room erupts into a full-blown tornado as it sweeps all the remaining demons up into the air; with a wave of her arms it dashes everything to the ground and the cavern is silent, demonic essences seeping back into the cracks.

"I'm not done yet," she murmurs, half to herself. "Too easy..."

He snorts, settling down on a piece of fallen ceiling. "You don't say. I think you should call out to Aeshma or something so you can finish the finial stage in your trial."

He's met with more silence and the quizzical look on her face makes him sigh. "You don't really know why you came down here, do you?"

The mage shakes her head, blonde strands becoming undone from her loose ponytail. "All I knew was that I had to make it to my basement, through the eternally fucked up labyrinth, and into here to break the blood rune on my back to form a contract with a demon," she says, looking pointedly at him, "and that's pretty much all I know."

"And they call you top of your class?" he says, nodding at her crookedly pinned badge on her jacket collar, ignoring the "jerk" said under her breath. "Anyway, the reason why you've been all through these trails is because they're shaped around your intentions—revenge. I'm a High-level Wrath demon. Aeshma is the Prince of Wrath demons, who was probably the one who walked you through...and is probably the one just waiting to see to bleed out on the floor in the last test."

She shifts on her feet, boots scraping stone, kicking a stray piece of rock into a rift. They don't hear the resounding thud. "So—"

She doesn't get to finish her sentence when a chill washes over them, and it's only when the floor changes into ice he sees horror painted all over her face. "I can see where you got your inner jerk from," she says slowly. "Because I think Aeshma just decided to get down to business."

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_and maybe when you're out on the edge you'll look down and wonder how it'll feel to have something to hold on to_

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**/notes2: could've posted this sooner, but then I caught a really bad case of stomach flu and felt to sick to do anything, even to go online and post. sigh.**

**please review and tell me what you think! **


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